


A Perfect Ending

by Samanstiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: DeanCas - Freeform, Destiel - Freeform, Destiel Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Not AU, SPN - Freeform, SPN family, Spn fandom, casdean - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:09:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27623200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samanstiel/pseuds/Samanstiel
Summary: Written before the supernatural series finale, this is a short story about the events following 15 x 19, aka "a perfect ending," especially for destiel shippers.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 7
Kudos: 55





	A Perfect Ending

Sam sat opposite of Dean, both drinking beers. The bunker was quiet. The world was saved, the names of their lost loved ones carved into the table where they sat. Everyone was there, forever memorialized in the carving, yet no one was there at all. A subtle uneasiness fell on the brothers. They were elated to be free, but more lonely now than they had been in a long time. They mutually lacked comfort in the idea of it just being them--that they had to find a new family once again. 

“It’s quiet,” said Sam softly, sipping his beer.

“Yeah,” Dean replied with a hint of disbelief, “It is.”

Silence. The pair drank, not really looking at each other, deep in their own thoughts.

“Hey Dean,” Sam spoke. 

“Yeah?”

“I’ve been thinking about something, something that doesn’t make sense.”

“Yeah?” Dean said casually. 

“You said Cas summoned The Empty,” Sam continued, and at the mention of Cas’s name, Dean released an uneasy breath. He sat his beer down on the table and nodded gently, knowing in his mind where the conversation was going. 

“Yeah.”

“But, how was that possible? The Empty can’t just be summoned, and why would it listen to Cas? I-I mean, The Empty hated Cas, right? For being awake, or whatever?”

“Sam…” Dean began with a heavy sigh, unsure of where to start. Sam waited for an answer, his eyes locked on Dean. Sam knew Dean was not telling the whole truth. Dean’s eyes flickered down to Castiel’s name on the table. He had put it there himself, his way of saying /thank you and I’m sorry./ 

“I...haven’t even really had time to explain it to myself, honestly,” Dean started, “Yet at the same time, it’s there, constantly, at the back of my head, those last few moments with Cas.”

“Dean...what happened?” Sam spoke, demanding a straight answer, “Cas was my friend. I want to know what happened to him.” 

“He had made a deal with The Empty, back when Jack died,” Dean answered.

“What?” Sam said quickly, taking offense, “And you didn’t tell me?”

“Sam, I didn’t know,” Dean replied softly, “I didn’t know until Billie was after us, pounding on the door, and nearly killed me. We were trapped, Sam. She had gotten us, we were both going to die, and that’s when he told me about the deal. He said it was the only way out for me, that he had made a deal with The Empty that in his happiest moment, The Empty would come for him and drag him back.”

“I-I don’t understand,” Sam said, tilting his head, “What about that situation, with the two of you being trapped and Billie coming after you, what about that situation is happy?”

“It’s not,” Dean said with a sigh, “It was awful, Sam. That dreadful feeling, knowing that she was going to kill Cas, that I was going to watch him go down bloody, knowing she’d kill me after him. It was awful. Then Cas started saying some things to me... about me. About how he felt.”

Dean paused, his jaw clenched. Sam’s expression softened, waiting for his brother to continue. Sam knew from the look in Dean’s eye that he was hurting, he was grieving, and in a way Sam understood. They both experienced a similar loss. 

“He said he loved me,” Dean concluded, his throat swelling. He swallowed hard, staring at the bottle of beer at his fingertips.

“Do you mean, love, as in, like”--

“Yes,” Dean confirmed, hastily interrupting Sam. He knew what he was going to ask, “Admitting this to me made him so damn happy it summoned The Empty, Sam. He didn’t mean it in a brotherly way. He made it pretty damn clear what he meant, and it worked. He tossed me aside, out of the way, and The Empty took him and it took Billie. I was saved, and now he’s gone.”

“Dean…” Sam started, unsure of what to say. Dean nodded, taking another swig of his beer. Suddenly the victory didn’t taste so sweet. He fought back the tears that stung his eyes.

“That’s...a lot to take in, in such a short amount of time.”

“I know, Sam, and I didn’t have time to react. He said it so quickly, and the next moment he was gone. He was gone, Sammy...he’s gone,” Dean choked, a guilty tear rolling down his cheek, “And everything has been nonstop since then. He’s not here to see us win. He doesn’t know that /we won/. He’s not here to celebrate, and it hurts. It hurts like hell, and worst of all? I can’t even tell him how /I/ feel.”

“How do you feel?” Sam asked cautiously. Dean paused, shaking his head. “Dean, you can be honest with me. I’m your brother.”

“I don’t know, Sam,” Dean answered, “I know that Cas is the bestest friend I have ever had, and I want him here. I want him back here with me. I want him to know that he changed me, too. I want to have time to figure things out, now that I know how he feels and now that we can. We know that someone else isn’t writing our story.”

“Chuck said Cas rebelling was not part of the story, Dean,” Sam said, “If Cas did this because he loved you...Dean, that was real. That wasn’t Chuck writing.”

“I know,” Dean said, his voice feeble and small, “Which makes it hurt worse.” 

“Well, maybe we can get him back somehow,” Sam said hopefully, “We have time. We can figure it out.”

“I don’t know…” Dean replied dismally. The conversation halted, the room growing quiet. 

Sam’s phone beeped softly. The sudden noise started him. He leaned forward, retrieving his phone from the pocket of his pants. There was an alert for a new text message from an unknown number. 

Sam - what happened? Lost my phone, you never came, is everything okay? - Eileen

“It’s Eileen,” Sam said in disbelief, a smile growing on his face. “S-she’s alive.”

“What? Really?” Dean said, perking up. 

“Y-yeah!” Sam answered with a chuckle, “I-I can’t believe it. She says she’s okay, she’s using her neighbor’s phone because I have hers. She’s probably so confused, I have so much I need to tell her.”

“You should go see her, then.”

“What? No, I don’t want to leave you here by yourself.”

“Sam, I will be okay. It’ll be nice to get some alone time. Some time to think. Stay a few days if you want, you deserve it.” 

“Are you sure?” Sam asked, “Because I can let her know I can’t, she will understand.”

“Sam,” Dean said slowly, extending his hand out for emphasis, “I insist.” 

“If you need anything at all, call me, okay?” Sam said quickly, grabbing his coat off the table. He pulled EIleen’s phone out of the coat pocket, “She’ll need this back...should probably take her car, too.” 

“Yeah, yeah, go have fun, lover boy,” Dean replied jokingly. Sam smirked and waved his brother goodbye, climbing the stairs to the outside. When the door creaked shut, Dean was alone. Alone for the first time in a long time. He sat at the table, his legs elevated and a beer in his hand. It grew warm against his palm as the minutes crept past in peace and loneliness. He didn’t know how to feel, or what to feel. It was his time to rest, to reflect, but he was a man who had never stopped moving. He sighed heavily and abandoned his position at the table. 

He spent the remainder of the day in bed, watching movies and Scooby-Doo, eating junk food and drinking beer until eventually his eyes couldn’t stay open any longer. Sam texted him a few times, letting him know he made it and that Eileen was okay. Before he fell asleep, he scrolled through the camera roll on his phone. So few pictures, but he did find a good one of him, Sam, Castiel, and Eileen from their last pizza night. It was a selfie. Dean tried to look smug and cool as he took the picture. Sam and Eileen snuggled in the background, beaming at him. Castiel sat by himself, his arms folded neatly in his lap, a slither of a smile on his face. Other photos were of Jack and Castiel, or Jack, Sam, and Castiel. He even found an old photo Sam had taken of him and Castiel when they weren't looking. 

He fell asleep laying face down, cuddled up to his pillow with a bottle next to him, the distant sound of credits from some cheesy romance movie acting as a lullaby. He didn’t dream that night, instead he slept hard and without reason to get up in the morning.

Nevertheless, he arose the next day before noon, took a long warm shower, brushed his teeth and even made himself a nice breakfast. When he sat down in the kitchen to eat, however, he found his appetite diminished when he realized he had no one to share it with. He looked over the beautiful ensemble, felt guilty for not eating, and then scooted the plate forward with distaste. After a moment of thought, he bowed his head, closed his eyes, heaved a heavy sigh, and parted his lips to whisper desperation to the new god.

“Jack,” he said softly, “Look, I know...I know you aren’t hands-on, like Chuck was, but I hope you can still hear me. I’m proud of you,” he began with a feeble smirk, “And I hope it’s not too much to ask for, but…”

A pause. What was he asking for? Dean swallowed hard. He swallowed the tears and he swallowed the fear. He wasn’t hiding anything. Jack knew. Sam knew. It was all out there now.

“I am glad you brought everyone back,” Dean continued, “What you did, that was amazing and good, and I am happy for Sam. He has Eileen back, and he deserves that happiness. I just...thought that...maybe, if there was any way -- any way you could bring Cas back, pop him out of The Empty, or whatever, if you could do that...Jack, I will never ask for anything ever again. Him and I...we have unfinished business, and his story isn’t over yet. I know it’s not as simple as snapping your fingers and him coming back, I get it, it’s The Empty, and it is more complicated than that, but please…” he stammered, choking on the words lingering on his tongue, “If you could just try. Please.” 

Dean waited with his head bowed. After a few moments, he opened a single eye, peeking for any sign that his prayer was heard. Following a long minute, he sighed, wiped away his tears, and nodded his head in acceptance. 

“I’m not mad,” Dean said softly, “If you can’t do it, I’m not mad. I’m still proud of you.”

Dean sniffled and stood up, leaving his plate and grabbing a bottle of whiskey on the way back to his bedroom. 

He spent the day doing the same as the day before. He watched movies, drunkenly texted Sam, who informed him it would be at least another two days before he came home. When he couldn’t handle the day drinking any longer, he wandered back into the library of the bunker with his laptop and sat down, hoping to find a case, but the world was quiet. The regular day-to-day politics continued, but no matter how hard he looked, no one was reporting on anything particularly weird. He fell asleep in his chair, slumped over the computer.

Dean awoke again to the sound of flickering lights. Half asleep and somewhat hungover, he slept through most of it. The lights clicked and sizzled until eventually they turned off. Dean groaned. He waited, feeling for a temperature drop, but it never came. 

No ghosts.

He stumbled to get up but eventually made it to his feet. He tilted his chin upwards, staring at the dimmed lights. The light returned to the bulbs in a quick flash. Dean squinted grumpily. The buzzing of electrical disturbance subsided. The quiet threatened him again, except this time, it was interrupted by a voice, clear as day.

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean instantly knew the owner of the voice, but the sound of it among all the emptiness he was experiencing rattled him sober. He quickly turned, meeting Castiel’s eyes. He stood before him in the same attire he always wore, a look of amazement and subtle fear on his face. Even so, Castiel smiled softly, unable to hide his happiness at the sight of Dean. 

“Cas?” the words flung out of Dean’s mouth, his expression dumbfounded, his mouth hanging open. Tears would have threatened his eyes if he wasn’t so completely astonished. Castiel bowed his head bashfully, losing eye contact with Dean. 

“Is this real? Are you real?” Dean asked sternly. 

“Of course I’m real,” Castiel replied.

“H-how?” Dean stammered, taking a few steps forward. Castiel leaned forward as well, extending his arm out slightly, but then quickly retreated it. He didn’t want to come across as too excited or too happy. 

“Jack, he heard your prayer,” Castiel answered, “Well, he was already in The Empty when he heard it. He’s been working to get me out, to strike a deal with The Shadow, but it took some time.”

“And?” Dean asked, his heart skipping a beat at the word /deal/.

“They’ve come to a cosmic understanding,” Castiel replied with a smile, “The Shadow wasn’t too happy with Jack being there at first, considering what he is now and what he did to it, but he promised if I came back, The Shadow would never have to see me again, that it could finally sleep, and so it sleeps now, and Jack acts as a filter for all souls who enter The Empty, so that The Shadow will never awaken again.”

“Seems like a hard job,” Dean said with a sigh.

“Not for him,” Castiel replied with a smile, “Dean...he is...he is amazing, and he is everywhere. Everywhere Chuck could and couldn’t be, and is everything Chuck and Amara should have been. He did it.”

“He did,” Dean said, a swell of pride fluttering in his chest. He walked around the table and approached Castiel before finally bringing him in close, wrapping his arms around him in a tight embrace. Castiel closed his eyes, taking Dean in. He was warm and rigid. Dean relaxed himself. He sighed deeply, calmly, and Castiel could hear a smile in his breath. 

Dean pulled away and took a step back, leaning against the table. 

“I’m glad you are here.”

“Where’s Sam?” Castiel asked, looking around.

“He’s with Eileen. I don’t know if Jack caught you up…”

“He showed me what happened, less with words, more with pictures and images. She is back,” Castiel said with finality, a content smile on his lips, “That is good. I am happy for Sam.”

“Me too,” Dean agreed. 

“There’s something I should tell you,” Castiel began and Dean’s heart dropped.

“What?” Dean asked, prepared for more news of a deal gone wrong.

“Jack had to ensure that I would not go to The Empty again upon my death,” Castiel began, “So...I am human.”

“You’re human?” Dean said with a smile, a chuckle of disbelief in his words. At that point, Castiel could have come back as a ghost and he would have been happy.

“Yes,” Castiel confirmed, “So...I will age. I will grow old, and one day I will die.”

“Hey, welcome to the club. So will I,” Dean said with a shrug, “I don’t care if you are an angel or not, Cas, I just wanted you back, in any way, shape, or form.”

“That’s…” Castiel began with a blush, his eyes fluttering down, “That’s good, I had some concerns.”

“Are you okay with being human?” Dean asked, crossing his arms, “I mean, you gotta eat now, and drink water, and...y’know, human stuff.”

“Yes, absolutely,” Castiel answered with a smile, “I would have done anything to come back to Earth, and this? Well, this was one of the better options.” 

“No terms and conditions?”

“None,” Castiel affirmed with a smile, “Well, just that I have to do, well, y’know, human stuff now.”

Silence fell between the two as they stared at each other. Castiel remained motionless, locked in a smile with Dean. Dean eventually switched stances and unfolded his arms, his smile fading as he stepped forward. Castiel widened the gap between the two, shifting towards the table where he laid an uneasy hand on the wooden top. His eyes flickered to his inscribed name, and his heart fluttered with gratitude. He glanced at Dean once again, noticing Dean’s parted lips, watching as Dean’s mind formed words and sentences. He knew where this was going. 

“Cas, when you died”-

“Dean…” Castiel interrupted, his eyes dropping, “We don’t have to talk about it. I...I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“You don’t, Cas,” Dean replied with finality. Castiel’s head perked up in interest, a curious look in his gaze. 

“But...I...I thought”--

“I’ve never told you what I thought.”

“The vessel I choose-- my permanent form now, my body...,” Castiel elaborated, “I’m not…”

“I don’t care about your vessel.” 

Castiel’s words trailed off. He waited for an explanation from Dean. 

“You know, Cas, I’m not good at just saying it, like you are, I’m not good with words, I’m not good at speaking my mind or talking about how I feel. That has always been something I have buried because that’s what I was taught. I never got to be a kid, I always had to take care of Sam, and to Dad...well, to Dad, talking about how you felt was a weakness. Being sad was a weakness. Allowing yourself to feel anything other than anger and revenge was a weakness.”

Castiel shook his head, unsure of where Dean was going with this. Dean wet his lips, pondering his words before he spoke them. 

“I need to tell you, I /want/ to tell you, that you changed me too, Cas. You changed me then, you changed me now. Before I met you, I didn’t believe in anything, now I believe in /us/. I believe in you, I believe in me, I believe in Sam and Jack. You changed the way I saw the world, and hell, just a few days ago you changed how I saw myself.”

“I’m glad, Dean,” Castiel said with a genuine smile, a spark in his blue eyes, “And...maybe your father was wrong. Dean, my greatest strength is my ability to /feel/, when I began to feel things, human things...it made me stronger, it made me care about people. It made me see things for what they were.”

“You’re right,” Dean agreed, averting his eyes. The more he talked, the more he had subtly closed the gap between him and Castiel, taking tiny steps towards the other man. His hand tapped the wooden table as he thought, watching his fingers rise and fall as Castiel’s remained motionless, a clenched fist placed on top of the wood. More silence. More uncertainty. More glances, looks, and unanswered questions. Castiel’s eyes remained focused on Dean. 

“You said that what you want, you can’t have,” Dean spoke finally, not looking Castiel in the eyes.

“D-Dean,” Castiel stammered.

“What do you want, Cas?” Dean asked with finality, knowing the answer.

“D-dean...I…” 

“Just tell me, Cas,” Dean furthered, reminding Castiel of his last words to him before he died, that there was happiness in just being, in just saying it. Castiel took a deep breath.

“You,” he said finally, “You, Dean.” 

Dean nodded, his eyes downcasted. Castiel held his breath, preparing for the worst. Moments passed in silence, Dean deep in thought, Castiel on edge.

“I didn’t even know angels were capable of feeling that way,” Dean said softly in disbelief. 

“I didn’t know angels were capable of feeling this way either, Dean. I have been around for an extraordinarily long time, and I didn’t know. I didn’t know I could feel this way, until I met you.” Castiel explained, shaking his head, “What I do know, is I have felt friendship before, and I have felt brotherhood and fatherhood, but how I feel about you as opposed to Sam, or Eileen, or Jack...it is just different, Dean. It...it makes me scared, in ways I have never feared before. It makes my chest hurt, and palpitate, and makes me nervous.”

“When did you know?” Dean asked.

“I-I don’t know, there isn’t one defining moment. I just thought...I am happy being your friend, Dean, and how I feel. Well I thought how I feel doesn’t matter, so long as you are still in my life.”

“What you feel does matter, Cas,” Dean said, “And I’m happy you told me.”

“Really?” Castiel said hopefully. 

“Yeah,” Dean said with a smile, “It...made me think things over. Made me realize that maybe everything has been different than what I was seeing. Hell, I didn’t think I was capable of being loved. I thought I was everything you said I wasn’t. You, an angel, telling me I deserve to be saved, telling me I’m not a monster? It’s a relief.”

“I’m glad,” Castiel said in satisfaction. Dean eyed Castiel’s hand, preparing his words carefully. 

“I’m better at showing how I feel, Cas,” Dean said, running his fingers along Castiel’s hand. At Dean’s touch, Castiel flinched, yet his hand unraveled so easily to him. Dean’s fingers hovered, motionless, resting on Castiel’s knuckles. Castiel did not look at their touching hands, instead he inhaled the touch, feeling it instead of seeing it. Castiel parted his lips, wanting to say something, but he could not form words. His heart thumped heavily in anxiety. 

Dean lifted his hand up and rested it on Castiel’s right cheek. Castiel’s face was hot, and his pulse quickened at Dean’s fingertips. 

“D-Dean,” Castiel stammered.

“The truth is, Cas, I don’t think I am as sure as you are about all this,” Dean admitted, “I’m not sure about myself, about who I am, about what I want. I’ve never been asked that, and hell, I’ve never really had time to think about it. I know that how you feel about me...it’s real. Realer than anything Chuck came up with, and I want to experience this with you. I am willing to try, I want to try, and if you want me, well,” he paused, running his thumb along Castiel’s bottom lip, “I’m yours.” 

Without reluctance, and without allowing Castiel time to react, Dean leaned forward. He leaned into Castiel with such ease, like he had done it a million times before. Castiel froze, allowing it to happen. Dean’s lips touched Castiel’s softly at first, with hesitation, as his hand caressed Castiel’s stubbled cheek. They closed their eyes, entangled with the sensation of each other. Time ticked in gentle kissing, both equally unsure if they were taking things too far. It was Dean who pulled away with a smile that mirrored Castiel’s. 

“I mean, it feels pretty right to me,” Dean said with a chuckle, his hand dropping from Castiel’s cheek to rest on his shoulder. 

“What now?” Castiel asked. 

“Well, we figure that part out. Together. Sam won’t be home for a few days, so we have time.”

“Okay,” Castiel agreed, and then added under his breath -- “I-I think I have a new happiest moment, now.”

Dean laughed and then nodded, removing his hand from Castiel’s shoulder. 

“Well, look, are you hungry? You’ve been gone a few days, and you’re human now, so you gotta eat. You probably need a refresher on some things anyways, like how to brush your teeth.”

“That would be nice, yes,” Castiel replied. 

“Okay, well, have a seat and I’ll cook you up some dinner, okay? How’s a burger sound?”

“Sounds perfect.”


End file.
